


extra life (don't give it up for me)

by Taliax



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Identity Reveal, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s03 Gamer 2.0, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Ladynoir | Adrien Agreste as Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng as Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug Identity Reveal, Romance, a Tali Brand fic but angstier, hence the lowercase title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22371934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taliax/pseuds/Taliax
Summary: Chat Noir refuses to let anyone else play as Desperada.  Ladybug doesn't know why.  But shedoesknow that if he sacrifices himself one more time, her heart won't be able to take it.He doesn't know how it feels to watch a partner vanish in front of him... does he?(Ladynoir, Set during/after Gamer 2.0)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 80
Kudos: 524
Collections: Tali Brand Reveal Fics





	extra life (don't give it up for me)

**Author's Note:**

> It’s 1:33 am, this is as good as this is gonna get lol. Special thanks to ThisKwamiNeeds_aNap for the gamer 2.0 + desperada analysis that sparked this idea, also to my pals botherkupo, marikittynoir, and chatnoirinette listening to me wallow in the pain of completely rewriting the ending

_"No!”_

Marinette’s hand paused, leaving her red cursor highlighting the triangular icon for Desperada. 

“Chat?” Her eyes darted around the cramped pyramid, wishing she could see him, but her field of vision was eclipsed with the akuma selection screen until she chose a fighter. And even then, she’d enter the body of the akumatized victim; she still wouldn’t be able to reach her Kitty. 

Had Gamer 2.0 broken the rules? Chat had seemed to be enjoying this game, but his voice just then— 

“Don’t pick Desperada,” his voice crackled through her earpiece. Something was off for sure.

“Why not?” She asked. “She’s got an easy power to win with. I know you’re having fun, but we _do_ still need to win.”

“I know, I know, but… please. You can win with anyone, my Lady. I’ll take Desperada.”

It was a strange request, but Marinette wasn’t picky. He was right; her strategy didn’t require any overpowered finishing moves.

“Are we going to play or not?” Gamer 2.0’s voice whined.

Marinette scrolled her cursor up and over to Gigantitan. Chat was always willing to listen to her plans. Of course she would respect the one thing he asked of her.

Though she easily won the match, she couldn’t shake the echo of Chat Noir’s panicked voice.

XXX

Stupid, _stupid._ Adrien’s hands still shook where they were trapped inside of the control console.

He should’ve just let Ladybug play as Desperada. What safer place could there be for her than inside the villain—no, _victim,_ he could usually remember that—who haunted his nightmares? She couldn’t go up in golden smoke if she was the one wielding Desperada’s shapeshifting instrument.

But still, he wasn’t sure he could watch Desperada in action without clawing at his wrist, even if he knew his Lady was the one beneath her skin. And he knew he couldn’t let Ladybug face her—and _he_ couldn’t face her—so there was only one solution his suddenly-whirling mind provided him.

He selected Desperada and slammed the button.

His body flickered, leaving him weightless for a brief second before he was thrust into the akuma victim’s body. He kept his eyes shut for as long as he could afford—not long, since Gamer 2.0 had chosen Pixelator. Another villain with a one-hit k.o.

_Just don’t think about it. It’s just a game. It’s not her, you’re not Aspik, you’re not going to be trapped here again, you’re Chat Noir and you LOVE video games it’s just a game it’s just a game it’s just—_

Pixelator’s blast nearly hit his feet. Only a quick skid across the slick arena floor saved him. Not that he’d be _gone_ gone if he lost this match—but it _would_ mean that Gamer 2.0 ended up with Desperada’s weapon.

Adrien grit his teeth. He couldn’t risk that. Her _would_ win.

“Chat? Are you okay?” Ladybug’s voice came through his earpiece, but he couldn’t afford to be distracted by her. Not like he had been 25,913 times before.

“Fine!” He managed to choke out before gripping the trombone in his hands.

Pixelator fired off a few more shots, but apparently Gamer 2.0’s practice hadn’t improved his hand-eye coordination. The glitchy-looking projectiles flew wide enough for Adrien to scramble away, roll, take aim.

One shot. He just needed one shot. It would be easy.

But squeezing the modified trombone’s trigger? Not so much. 

Panic gripped him, months upon months of memories slamming back into him as his gaze skirted the brass weapon. Five thousand separate instances where his Lady had disintegrated at its hand.

“Chat! Get your head in the game!”

Ladybug’s voice startled him enough that his hands clenched—squeezing the trigger and blasting that horrible, _horrible_ noise.

Pixelator vanished in a spray of golden smoke.

Pixelator. Not his Lady.

His hand squeezed the blood from his left wrist anyway.

_“Desperada wins!”_

The announcer’s voice hit like a punch to the gut, and his body reacted by leaking bile into his throat.

But he won. 

He _won._

His body rematerialized in the control pyramid, and Ladybug wasted no time in picking her next fighter. She was laughing, using Prime Queen to hurl Princess Fragrance against the ground. She was having fun.

She was here, with him, even if he couldn’t squeeze her hand to physically reassure himself. She was here.

...And, he realized when it was his turn at the selection screen again, she still needed him.

If his time fighting Desperada had taught him anything, it was that he would never let down his Lady.

XXX

_“The times when I have the most fun—my favorite moments— are when I'm with you, my Lady. And I would give up everything for just that.”_

Chat Noir’s words echoed in Marinette’s mind hours after the fight with Gamer 2.0. Hours after Max had left her house, cheered by the time spent with her and her parents. Hours after she lady in bed, trying to convince herself to sleep.

He _did_ give up everything for her. All the time. Including today.

Did he _know_ how much it hurt to watch him fall out of the arena? And he’d had the nerve to _wink_ at her while he did it! While she couldn’t doubt his logic—and while warmth pooled in her at his trust—what if she’d failed? She’d been pushed to the brink today; she’d snapped and directed her frustrations from her civilian life at him. And the whole time, he’d taken it, talked her down, taken the hit.

Just like he always did.

He _always did._

She buried her face in her pillow, wishing she’d at least taken the time to thank him today. He knew she couldn’t do this without him, didn’t he? So much of their partnership went without saying… 

But then again, she hadn’t realized how much she meant to him until he’d said it, either.

“Marinette?” Tikki whispered from her spot next to her pillow. “I thought you’d be asleep by now. You were exhausted today.”

“I _am_ exhausted,” she groaned, squeezing the pillow against the sides of her head. “But I can’t stop thinking about…”

“About who?”

Marinette peeked out enough to glare at her kwami. She knew, of course—she’d said _who,_ not _what—_ but she was going to make Marinette say it.

“Chat Noir,” she huffed into the pillowcase. “He sacrificed himself again today.”

Tikki nodded, even though she probably already knew that too. Her kwami had a good sense of what happened while Marinette was in the suit, though she was unable to explain how it worked in a way that a human mind could understand.

“But you saved him,” Tikki said. “Just like he knew you would.”

“I know I _can,_ but… it still hurts, you know?” Her voice came out as little more than a whimper. “I know I’m Ladybug, and I have to purify the akuma, but still… I couldn’t do it without him. And it’s like he didn’t even _think_ before jumping today!”

“Because he trusts you, Marinette.”

“I _know!_ But—”

But _what?_ There really wasn’t anything else to it. She’d tried talking Chat out of taking hits before. She could never get him to promise to stop, not when Paris needed the Miraculous Cure more than it needed his Cataclysm.

_But._

But.

She just wanted him to be okay. He’d said he was fine—that his _favorite_ moments were with her.

How could they be, when he was always in so much danger?

How would he feel if he knew how much she worried about him? Not _all_ the time, of course—just times like this, when she remembered him falling like a ragdoll, disappearing, fading from existence. It hadn’t been as bad as Timebreaker for sure, or even the Puppeteer when he’d been briefly turned against her—but those had been so long ago. Maybe it was just the recentness of it, reminding her again just how much she cherished her partner.

Not that she could tell him that so directly. He’d never stop riding the high of it.

Tikki smiled knowingly. “If you’re worried about Chat Noir, you should tell him. He’s your partner. And I… don’t think he gets to hear how much he means to people very often.”

Of course, Tikki had managed to follow her train of thought. Being literally merged as Ladybug tended to make that easier for her.

“You really think his ego isn’t big enough?” Marinette grumbled.

Tikki’s eyes turned sad. “This isn’t Chloe we’re talking about. He’s your friend.”

Marinette’s brows drew together. He _was_ her friend, and her partner, and… and he couldn’t be more than that. Today had reminded her why.

If it already hurt so much to watch Chat throw his life away, how could she handle it if she were in love with him?

“Right,” she mumbled, hating the way her exhaustion twisted her thoughts. She couldn’t be in love with Chat anyway—because she was in love with Adrien. She’d taken down some of his pictures since becoming better friends with him, but a few still peeked out from the top of her cork board.

She’d never displayed a picture of Chat Noir, even if she could easily pass herself off as a casual fan. She wasn’t sure her heart would be able to take _both_ blond-haired boys staring down at her.

This was useless. She’d been worried about Chat’s safety, not whether or not she was in love with him!

“Tikki? You think I could get out for a bit to clear my head?” Lying here in the dark certainly wasn’t cutting it.

“Of course. Just don’t stay out too long; you still need your rest.”

That much was obvious, especially if she was entertaining romantic thoughts of Chat Noir.

After a whispered _“spots on,”_ she swung out into the night.

XXX

Adrien wound the red string around his left wrist. Breathed in.

Unwound. Breathed out.

Wound. Breathed in.

Unwound.

The rooftop’s shingles still dug into Adrien’s back, but some of the tension uncoiled from his shoulders as he methodically twisted Marinette’s lucky charm. Maybe it was silly, but more than anything else he’d tried, it _worked._ Having something to replace the weight of the miraculous bracelet he’d worn for so long… maybe it should’ve been a reminder of all the times he’d failed, but instead it gave him hope.

How could anything bad happen to him while he held his friend’s lucky charm?

A gentle breeze kissed his masked face as he held his wrist up to the moon. The green and pink beads glinted brightly against the inky black of his gloves.

He was glad the moon was the only one who could see him from his hiding spot on the abandoned roof. What would Ladybug think if she knew he had such a weird way of clearing his head? Maybe she’d joke that she was being replaced, that he didn’t need her luck anymore if he had Marinette’s. But no, that thought wouldn’t even occur to her. Unlike Adrien, she knew she couldn’t be replaced.

_“Chat Noir! You know you’re irreplaceable.”_

He tried to remember her reassuring words every time those doubts crept in. She _had_ needed him today. Something had been off with her, a vulnerability he rarely got to see.

_“Aren't you scared you'll eventually have to sacrifice everything you love for all of this?”_

It would be hard to sacrifice everything he loved when everything he loved was _her._ He’d toned down that sentiment out loud, but he still wished he could pull her into his arms, promise her that everything was going to be okay, that they’d beat Hawkmoth and steal _his_ miraculous and reveal their identities to each other and fall and love and move to a private island with a hamster— 

He chuckled at his own fantasy. He could dream, right? He had to have something to get through the days when all he could remember was her vanishing over and over, golden smoke and shocked blue eyes— 

The charm bracelet was too tight on his wrist. He quickly unwound it before the red string could snap. 

Breathed out. Wound. Breathed in— 

And nearly choked when his staff started ringing.

He rolled over and whipped it out from behind his back, too shocked to even pretend he was busy before picking up. “LB? You okay?”

 _“Oh, um… I didn’t think you’d be up, honestly.”_ Her awkward laugh echoed over the pounding of his heart. _“Are you okay?”_

“I’m absolutely purrrrfect now, my Lady.” He grinned. Marinette’s lucky charm has paid off again. “How about yourself? Just wanted to have a _chat_ on this _fe_ line evening?”

_“Nope, nope, that’s it, I’m hanging up.”_

“No no no don’t go,” he said in one breath, both hands tightening around his staff-phone. “I mean. You didn’t even tell me why you called yet.”

_“I can’t just want to chat with my kitty?”_

Oh, that put fluttery feelings in his stomach. It was probably for the best that she wasn’t there in person to see his absolutely smitten look. “You made a pun.”

_“Completely accidental!”_

“Suuuure it was, bugaboo.” He was pushing it, he knew, but she’d called her _his_ kitty. Either something was finally going right for him… or something was very, very wrong. “Seriously, though. You never make house calls. What’s up?”

 _“I… nevermind, this was stupid,”_ she muttered. 

“No excuse to talk to you is stupid.”

She paused, and for a moment he was sure she’d hung up. But then she said, _“Meet me at the Eiffel Tower in ten minutes.”_

“As you wish, my Lady.”

He tucked Marinette’s lucky charm away in his pocket, making sure to zip it shut. Then he vaulted off into the night, leaving memories of other bracelets and vanishing Ladybugs behind.

XXX

“We need to talk.” Marinette crossed her arms to keep them from shaking.

Chat Noir dropped onto the crossbeam in front of her, a grin wide on his face. “What, you’re not even going to take me out to dinner first?” 

She found herself wishing she’d brought some croissants, if only to have one to throw at him. “Can you—can you be serious for _once?”_

Her voice cracked pitifully. She was doing it again—taking out her fear and anger on him, and he _didn’t deserve it,_ and she just…

She covered her eyes and crouched down on the cold crossbar. “I’m sorry, Chat. I—I shouldn’t have asked you to come out this late.”

“Hey.”

She felt more than saw Chat sit down beside her. His arms came gently around her, slow enough that she could’ve chosen to pull away.

“You know I’ll always come when you call, little Bug.”

She tried to snort at the nickname, but it felt all too accurate. She felt so, so small.

“I know you will,” she murmured, twisting to better return his undeserved embrace. “I’m still sorry. I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciated you today. I’ve been… having a rough time in my civilian life. It wasn’t fair to take it out on you.”

“We all have off days, LB. Don’t worry about it.”

Of course, it hadn’t even fazed him. How many times had she taken that for granted?

“I know you don’t want to reveal too much about our identities, but if you want to talk about anything that’s bothering you, I’m all ears.” He pulled back just a little, enough for her to see him twitch his leather cat ears.

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide a smile. “I just took on too many obligations at the same time, that’s all. It’s a problem I have.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” He smiled sadly. “You’re always sacrificing so much for others. I can’t imagine your civilian self is any different.”

Her face warmed at his praise. She _did_ do a lot, but she doubted he’d find her exploits as Marinette half as impressive as Ladybug. Besides—

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you, the most self-sacrificing person I know.” 

Her gaze peeled away from him as his most recent sacrifice again flashed through her mind. Would it be worth bringing up again? He’d never stop choosing her safety over his own. And she really didn’t want to argue after just apologizing to him.

“Sorry.”

His soft, sad voice surprised her. Of course it hadn’t been hard for him to guess what she was thinking—he did that all the time when they fought side by side—but he’d never sounded so much like… like he _understood._

“I should’ve thought a little harder before jumping today. That was probably hard to watch.”

 _“Probably?”_ She couldn’t help gaping. “Chat, it hurts _every time_ I see you throw yourself into danger. We could’ve found a way to trick Gamer 2.0, or at least come up with a plan. But you just…”

_Left me._

That was it, wasn’t it? It was supposed to be her and him against the world. Even if the fight could technically be handled alone sometimes, _she_ needed him.

Her partner’s claws scratched at his wrist, just below the leather brace. His gaze wouldn’t focus on her.

“I’m sorry, Ladybug, I really am. I wasn’t... having the best day either, I guess.”

“Hey,” she said, taking his hand—had his claws been digging into his suit?—and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry. I know we’ve talked about this, and I don’t want to fight about it again.” There had been too many tears last time, from both of them. (Mostly her.) “I’m sorry today was hard for you too.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He shook his head, but his grip tightened on her hand, like she was anchoring him. “It was nothing, really. Just not at the top of my _game.”_

The pun was forced, and she knew it. She frowned up at him.

“I’m not going to stop worrying about you just because you tell me to, Chat. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Can’t. Civilian stuff,” he said quickly.

“Really? I guess I just thought… nevermind.”

“What?”

Maybe she’d misread the situation earlier—after all, she hadn’t been able to see his face while they were in the Gamer’s domain. Could the strange panic she’d thought she heard in his voice just been her imagination?

“You didn’t want me to play as Desperada. And you seemed a little off afterwards…” 

He shuddered at the akuma’s name. “You noticed?”

“Of course I did. You sounded scared, but I didn’t want to ask and give Gamer 2.0 anything he could use against you.”

“Smart,” he said under his breath. “I should know I can’t hide anything from you.”

“I don’t know about _that._ It’s not like I know your identity.”

He gave a shallow laugh at that. “Right…”

There was an awkward silence, where nothing passed between them but Chat’s rapid pulse against her palm. She still hadn’t let go of his hand. He hadn’t teased her about it—which was more of a sign that something was wrong than anything.

“You know,” she said under her breath, tracing her thumb along the back of his hand, “keeping you safe is my number one priority, right?”

“No it’s not.” He shook his head, but he didn’t sound bitter about it. “Keeping Paris safe is your priority. Keeping _you_ safe is mine.”

She bit her lip. Unfortunately, no matter how her heart felt, he was right. 

“I just mean… the rules we have, about identities and everything—it’s to protect us.” She swallowed, wondering if she’d regret what she was about to say, if she was only considering it because she’d been worn down by the emotionally exhausting day. “But if you need to talk about something related to your civilian identity that’s affecting you in battle, well… I can’t protect you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

His eyes snapped up to hers. “Don’t say that.”

“W-what?” His intensity caught her off guard. She was always one to shut down conversations that danced too close to their civilian life, not him.

“If you give me permission to talk about this… I don’t know that I’ll be able to stop.”

His shoulders hunched; his knees pulled up to his chest. For all that he’d called her _Little Bug_ earlier, she’d never seen him look so small. Not when she’d told him she was in love with someone else. Not when they’d fought a horde of akumas turned by Scarlett Moth. 

But she’d rather face a hundred akumas then see her partner look so defeated.

“Chat Noir.” She squeezed his hand tighter, afraid he would slip away. “I trust you. I know you wouldn’t reveal yourself to me on purpose. I’m not trying to tempt you or anything, I just… I _hate_ seeing you like this.”

Maybe it was selfish of her, but could he really blame her for wanting to help him?

“Let me protect _you_ for once,” she whispered.

“You already have.” He looked up, and to her surprise, tears welled in the corners of his green eyes. “So many times.”

“Then let me do it again. Maybe I can’t keep you from getting hurt, but at least let me be here for you. You don’t have to pretend to be okay all the time, you know that, right?”

“I do, actually.” He snorted, wiping at one eye with his free hand. “Can’t get akumatized.”

Marinette could’ve punched Hawkmoth in the face right then. Well, she wanted to punch Hawkmoth all the time, but _especially_ now.

“Forget about that. I’ll watch out for any butterflies, if you just want to… you know.”

Sometimes you just needed a good cry. Marinette hadn’t had that luxury since becoming Ladybug two years ago—except for a few rare times where Tikki had kept watch for her—but she had no idea how much Chat might have been bottling up.

From the sound of his shaking sobs, it was a _lot._

“It’s okay, kitty, I’ve got you.”

She released his hand, but only so she could better wrap her arms around him, curling into his side. He collapsed into her embrace.

“It’s okay. I promise, I’m not going anywhere.” She ran her hands through his hair, scratched gently behind his cat ears, until a low rumble sounded in his chest. She didn’t let that fool her though; she’d read that cats sometimes purred when they were in pain.

And her kitty was in more pain than she’d ever realized.

“I _can’t_ lose you again,” he finally said against her collarbone. “I _can’t._ I know you won’t leave me on purpose, but—even just remembering it—”

“I’ll _never_ leave you, Chaton. It’s you and me against the world.” She kept up her soothing touches, steadfastly ignoring just how nice it felt to her too. She was here to comfort her partner, not get lost in the scent of his strawberry shampoo and leather suit.

“But what if I _can’t save you?”_ He finally burst, looking up at her with tearstained eyes. “I… we don’t always get second chances…”

It wasn’t the first time she’d had that fear—though usually hers was the fear of failing as a whole, of watching Chat disappear forever, of watching Paris crumble around her.

“I know,” she murmured. She wouldn’t lie and pretend there was nothing to be afraid of. “But I also know that no matter what we’ve faced, you’ve _always_ been here to save me. You saved me today.” 

As much as it pained her to admit, his self-sacrificing stunt had allowed her to win. While she understood his fear, why was it catching up to him _now_ , of all times? Maybe it was just remembering all the akumas they’d faced, all their close calls…

_“Don’t pick Desperada.”_

That one… hadn’t been worse than usual, had it?

_“We don’t always get second chances…”_

“I don’t always save you,” he said. “I don’t, and—and I _can’t tell you,_ and that’s what hurts more than anything.” He squeezed his eyes shut before dropping his head back onto her shoulder.

“I don’t understand. I’m still here. Safe,” she reassured him while rubbing his back. “That should be proof enough that you didn’t fail.”

“Only because you don’t _remember.”_

Didn’t… remember? Had there been an akuma attack like Oblivio that she had no memory of? But surely she would’ve remembered casting the Cure at least, and noticed that there was a gap in time that she’d missed…

And she still didn’t understand how any of this could relate to worries about Chat’s civilian identity, unless that had just been a bluff to keep her from asking. But she doubted that—Chat Noir didn’t lie to her.

_“25,913 times…”_

She wasn’t supposed to hear that. She knew that from the way it was mumbled despondently into the crook of her neck. She knew it from the way his whole body froze at the admission.

She knew it from the way she had that number memorized. If it had been anything else, any other number, she would’ve thought he was exaggerating, but— 

_“It was the 25,913th time. I don’t know what to do anymore!”_

“No,” she gasped. He was—and he had— _“Adrien?”_

Slowly, as if every degree he lifted his head caused him pain, he met her eyes. His lips tried to twitch into a hopeful smile, but they wavered before letting out another sob. 

“I told you I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said quickly, even though it _did_ matter, because the boy she loved was the _other_ boy she loved, and—now was _not_ the time to be coming out of denial! “I mean, it _does_ matter, of course I care who you are, but I’m not—we’ll get through it, okay?”

“You’re mad, aren’t you?” He sniffed.

She squeezed him before he could pull out of her hug—even though he had _every right_ to pull away. _She_ had been the one to give him the snake miraculous. 

Everything snapped into place. Why Desperada had freaked him out. His fear of failing her. Why he would jump into danger so rashly. 

And _she’d_ thought it was bad to watch Chat sacrifice himself. He he’d been in love with her all along _,_ and she’d made him watch her vanish _25,913 times._

She’d tried to check on Adrien as Ladybug shortly after the Desperada fight. She’d _known_ there was a chance that he’d be struggling, he said he’d been in the time loop for _months,_ but every time she tried to visit he was gone or asleep (she knew she should’ve kept his schedule!) and then he’d come to school and he’d _seemed_ fine, but all along…

“Talk to me, Bug, please,” he choked out.

“Sorry!” She released him from her hug, but only so she could grab his hands instead.

(She was _holding Adrien’s hands,_ the useless part of her brain screamed.)

(She told it to shut up.)

“I’m not mad, I promise. I’m just so—so _stupid,”_ she finally said, traitorous tears already welling in her own eyes, spilling over, clinging to the edge of her mask. Blurring her view of the one person who meant more to her than anyone. “I’m so sorry, chaton— if anyone should be mad it’s you. I was the one who chose you to use the snake miraculous; I was so _selfish—”_

“Ladybug, _no._ ” He shook his head, blond hair flaring out around his human ears. “You couldn’t know I was Chat Noir. I was… I was thrilled that you picked my civilian self.”

“But I shouldn’t have. I should have used my head instead of my heart.” She bit her lip. How could he still look at her with such warmth when he’d been trapped trying to protect her for so long?

“You always use your head. I’m the one who was stupid enough to keep trying.”

“Because you trusted me—”

“Because I love you.”

Her head snapped up, wet blue eyes locking on shimmering green ones. Those were the words she’d wanted to hear ever since he’d caught her in the rain two years ago. She’d never expected to hear them _here, now,_ when she felt she least deserved them.

“You—still?” Her breath caught.

He chuckled. “I thought it was obvious, Bugaboo.”

“How do you stand it?” She blurted. Wrong time, wrong words, but she couldn’t stop. “I mean… if you don’t want to talk about it, I get it, I really do, but—how did you watch me… get hit all those times, when you love me, and not—”

She wasn’t going to cry again. She _wasn’t._

“Go crazy?” He smiled sadly. “I think it’s too late for that.”

“Adrien…”

“But it means I know how you feel now. I’m sorry I made you watch me disappear again today. That wasn’t cool of me.”

“Stop it—stop _apologizing,_ Chat, I mean—you— _agh!”_ She threw her arms around his neck, and from the brief look of panic on his face, he must have thought she was going to strangle him. But she just pulled him into another crushing hug. “You’re so much braver than I am.”

“ _Paw_ sitively untrue.”

“True! I always knew I wouldn’t be able to stand it if I watched you take the hits you do, and I was… and I was… in love with you,” she mumbled.

This time his chuckle was hollow, echoing in the pit of her stomach.

“I guess it’s a good thing you’re not in love with me, then.”

“I am.”

Cold clarity washed over her. Did—did she really just say that? _No!_ She wasn’t supposed to say it like _that,_ when they’d both been crying and…

And it didn’t matter.

Because he was looking at her like she’d just cast the Miracle Cure over his whole world.

“You… you’re…”

“In love with you,” she said, because she _could,_ oh she _could_ and it felt like someone had finally breathed the air back into her lungs. “I’m in love with you, Chat Noir. Adrien. Both of you—just _you,_ wow, that’s still going to take some getting used to…”

But it felt _right._...Maybe just because she was relieved she didn’t have to choose between her all-consuming crush and her partner who she wouldn’t give up for the world. But still.

“You’re in love with me,” he breathed. The grin that spread across his face could’ve powered the whole Eiffel Tower—no, all of Paris. She could still hardly believe he’d grace her with it, after everything that had happened— 

But they were partners. They were friends. Even if they weren’t in love—which they _were,_ she thought with a giddy shiver—nothing could tear apart Ladybug and Chat Noir.

To her surprise, his hand detangled from hers to unzip his pocket. But the even bigger surprise was what he fished out.

“I’m going to have to to thank Marinette again.” He held up her old beaded bracelet by one end of the red string. “I think her lucky charm works almost as well as yours.”

A laugh bubbled out of her. Even when he’d been in love with Ladybug, he’d carried _Marinette’s_ charm with him? 

The urge to yank his bell and kiss him punched her in the gut. But she had to hold out for at least a _little_ longer—just long enough to blow his mind, she hoped.

“You’re welcome, chaton _,”_ she said with a smirk. “I’m glad you’re making good use of it. Seems like you needed it more than I did.”

He blinked, his jaw dropping open. “Wh—no way, _Marinette?”_

Her face heated. She was used to teasing and flirting with Chat, but hearing him say her name while she was suited up—there was something about it that shot lightning from her toes to the tips of her fingers.

“Er—surprise?”

“I love you,” he said before slapping his hands over his mouth. Which was too bad, because she was _really_ close to just pressing her own mouth over his. Her lucky charm dangled teasingly between his fingers, probably touching his lips, not _fair—_

“Yep, you’ve said that.” She giggled.

“Agh, I know, but—it was _you!_ Marinette!”

She wasn’t really sure what was playing out in his head right now. His eyes shifted through so many expressions before settling on one that just about melted her insides.

“I know you said not to apologize—”

“Don’t you dare.” She jabbed his chest. “I’m just going to forgive you anyway.”

“Because you love me.” He grinned dopily, clutching her lucky charm to the spot she’d poked.

“No.” It was _really_ hard to keep glaring when he just stared at her like she was the only star in the sky.

_“Yes.”_

_“Yes,_ I love you, _no,_ it’s because you’re my partner and I think we’ve _both_ sacrificed ourselves enough for each other. We’re both superheroes. We’re going to have to take hard hits, it’s our _job.”_ She took a deep breath. _Even though it might hurt even more now…_ “I trust you, Chat. You’re not going to jump in front of an akuma unless you _really have to,_ right?”

“Of course. Right.” He nodded. “But that wasn’t what I was apologizing for this time.”

“Oh.” She blinked. She’d still forgive him anyway, but she had to admit she was curious now.

“I’m sorry I never noticed that the love of my life was in front of me this whole time.”

He twined their fingers, the red string of her charm tangling in between them.

She let out a half-laugh. That was it? 

“I could apologize for the same thing, you know.”

“Or,” he said with a mischievous smirk pulling at his lips, “we could skip to the part where we kiss and make— _mmpf!”_

Her mouth was clumsy against his, but she was so high on the exhilaration of kissing him that it didn’t matter. He followed her lips with equal fervor, no longer shaking, his claws digging wonderfully into the divot just to the side of her spine.

For that moment, they didn’t have to be superheroes. They didn’t have to think about failing, about consequences—they were just two teenagers, in love, chasing each others breaths on the side of the Eiffel Tower. 

Kissing her partner wouldn’t fix everything. But for now it was a reprieve, and a promise. 

She would always, _always_ be here for her kitty.


End file.
